


Headspace

by MessOfCurls



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: (or the closest I can get to it), Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, Gay Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 22:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16273790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessOfCurls/pseuds/MessOfCurls
Summary: There are two sides to everything.(see tags)





	1. Chris

****"Eyes on me."

Chris peers up from between Mike’s thighs, meeting his eye across the plane of Mike’s stomach. The curtains are drawn, rimmed with daylight, but he can see Mike clearly enough in the glow of the bedside lamp. Naked from the waist down, reclining unabashed with one hand tucked beneath his head, Mike is a picture of confidence. He looks, well, not smug exactly - too restless and tight around the edges to be considered smug - but something close to it.

Chris braces his himself on Mike's hip and dips his head again, holding Mike's gaze. He watches the way Mike's face shifts and relaxes with each slow bob, and feels the hand on his neck slowly trace the hair along his nape.

“You know what I like, huh?” Mike says, voice deeper than usual, all rasp and slur.

Chris does, but that's no surprise; he's spent enough time doing this to know. Months of hooking up under the guise of ‘studying’ have a way of teaching you what a guy likes, and Chris' study partner likes eye contact and lots of it.

He hums in answer, glancing up now and then to find Mike watching him intently, warm brown eyes following the movements of his hand and the slow wet path of his mouth, drinking him in.

“Shirt.”

Chris slows but doesn't stop. He gives Mike a questioning look. “Hnn?”

“Take it off,” Mike says, as though it’s obvious.

Chris understands but doesn’t strip. Instead, he closes his eyes and carries on, ignoring the request. A moment later, he hears a breath of laughter.

“ _Off_ ,” Mike says, firmly this time. He sounds amused, but there's tension in his voice, an assertive edge that teeters somewhere between bossy and beseeching.

Chris stops, wiping his mouth as he pushes up from the mattress to sit back on his heels. He quirks his eyebrows and throws Mike a look, a bright flash of eyes, then obediently pulls his shirt up over his head. The movement musses his hair and leaves his glasses askew, and he pushes them farther up the bridge of his nose to keep them on, another thing Mike likes.

Stripped to the waist, Chris settles between Mike’s legs and tries not to seem too eager to pick up where they left off as he takes Mike between his lips, fingers curling around the base of his dick. He sinks lower then eases back, pressing his tongue against the underside, sucking gently, speeding up a touch when Mike sucks in a breath.

“That's right. Show me what you got," Mike says, and Chris can hear him smile.

A shiver runs down Chris' spine when Mike's hand returns to his nape, palm hot and heavy, sending a jolt straight to his dick. It feels so firm and secure, like Mike wouldn't rather have anyone else going down on him right now, and the thought twists in Chris’ stomach as he sucks, tongue slipping out to run along a vein. He hums again, tongue swirling over flushed skin, and tries not to seem too smug when Mike's grip tightens.

"You hard?"

Chris doesn’t need to answer. He’s had a hard-on since he entered Mike's room, hell, Mike's house, and the feel of Mike in his hand and the sight of him spread against the mattress isn’t doing anything to deter it. It’s blatant how much he’s been looking forward to this. He knows it, Mike knows it. It's obvious.

"Mmm,  _yeah_ you are." Mike narrows his eyes, smiling broadly when Chris lowers his gaze in silent confession. He wets his lips and traces Chris' jaw with his thumb, voice coy and teasing between unsteady breaths. “You wanna fuck me?”

It’s another pointless question, they both already know the answer, but Chris makes a sound low in his throat. His hand quickens, and he ups his game, sucking with renewed enthusiasm.

It’s all part of it.

Chris hears Mike exhale through pursed lips and looks up to see Mike sink back against the pillows. He watches Mike run his hand across his face, fingers settling in brown hair, not flustered - Mike never looks 'flustered' - but he's worked up, that much is clear.

“Get me off, and you can fuck me,” Mike breathes. He shifts then settles, eyes closing as he lifts his face to the ceiling. “Fuck me _so hard_.”

Chris’ pulse quickens, and a small, fleeting sound catches in his throat, because this is the good stuff, the words he wants to hear. Wind the clock back to last semester, and Chris would never entertain the idea he'd ever hear Mike say these words, that he was even capable of saying them, but there they are, bright and breathy, every syllable hitting Chris hard.

Chris knows it's not an empty promise, but the word ‘let’ seems generous; Mike text him after all. He could stop right now, leave Mike hanging, and Mike would still ‘let’ him - another thing they both know - but Chris doesn’t call him on it. Chris can tell Mike gets off on it, knows Mike's words aren't just for his benefit, but welcomes them all the same. He likes it when Mike talks, likes knowing what he's thinking and what he wants, and Mike is always more than happy to share what's on his mind.

Mike lets out another long exhale, and Chris feels another swell of want. It feels good seeing Mike with his guard down. Stripped of his everyday bullshit facade, Mike is something else entirely, all hot, shaky breath and pliant limbs, still bossy sometimes but a far cry from his usual domineering self.

Almost.

Chris feels Mike's eyes on him again as Mike shifts against the pillow. He pulls back and glances up, holding Mike’s dick steady while he licks his way along it - long, broad strokes, all for show. He feels Mike tense, hissing through clenched teeth as he bobs his head, tongue tracing the curve of Mike's dick. It’s thick and heavy in his mouth, skin slick and warm, and Chris flattens his tongue, breathing harshly through his nose to accommodate the stretch.

Mike's fingers tighten on the pillow and his grin returns, jaw clenching as he takes in the view. He nods shakily, speechless for a moment. "Yeah, fuh-- _fuck_ , just like... that."

Chris doesn't consider himself a proud person, but there's something about the way Mike's voice wavers and drops that strokes his ego. Michael Munroe - school playboy, smooth and silver-tongued - falls into a lesser form when his dick is getting sucked.

Mike shudders when Chris swallows around him, an unconscious movement. It makes Chris gag a little, but he quickly recovers, brow furrowing as he closes his eyes. His jaw is starting to ache, but Chris wasn't raised a quitter and he sure as hell isn't quitting now.

" _That's_ it," Mike breathes, combing a hand through Chris' hair, "That's my boy."

Chris swallows and looks up. Mike's eyes are cloudy, dark and hungry, and it makes Chris squirm.

"So good," Mike murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips again. “Mmm, yeah... so fucking _good_.”

Chris' eyes flutter shut as he pulls back, hand steadily pumping while he sucks the head. He senses Mike moving above him, tastes salty beads of precum on his tongue, and hears the faint click of a camera shutter.

"Look at me," Mike all but purrs, smiling when Chris obediently lifts his gaze. He lines up his phone and Chris hears it click again. "Yeah... just like that."

Mike unpicks Chris' fingers, cradling Chris’ head as he rocks into his mouth - slow, shallow thrusts that make Mike's eyes glaze over. His smile turns hungry, and he runs his tongue over his teeth like he wants to get involved, unconsciously craving something to keep his own mouth busy.

Chris indulges him, lets Mike slowly fuck his mouth while he looks on. But his generosity is short-lived, and he soon interrupts Mike with a firm hand.

Mike is demanding, but he knows when to back off, and he gives Chris a rakish smile, more amused than disappointed. He lowers his phone and places it on the bed beside him, hands retreating to the pillow beneath his head.

Chris takes Mike in his hand and mouth again, peering up at Mike with a satisfaction that warms his eyes. He’s back in control, and fuck if they aren’t both into it.

Chris carries on, sucking and stroking, nice and slow. He takes his time and drags it out because the truth is Chris enjoys this almost as much as Mike does. It’s a guilty pleasure having Mike reduced to this, an ego boost to know he can work him up this much. And man, Mike looks hot right now, all toned and hazy-eyed. Looking up at him, Chris can’t help thinking about the easy promise Mike made, and the words run circles in his head, replaying again and again while he works Mike through his fist until it’s all he can think about.

“Fuck…” Mike’s voice bends, soft and breathy. Not breaking, not yet. He throws his arm across his face and lifts his shirt, material bunching at his neck as he runs his palm over his chest.

Chris can tell Mike's getting close. He knows how to read the signs. There are fewer words now, Mike's breath louder than before. He eases back, tonguing the shaft before pulling off completely, then leans down, pressing his lips to Mike's stomach, hand quickening as he mouths his way across warm skin.

“Ahh yeah…”

Mike looks down from beneath his arm, eyes heavy when Chris meets his gaze. Chris knows that face, has been thinking about that face all day, and it spurs him on, kissing and licking his way across tense muscle, stroking with steady insistence.

“ _Nnh--_ ”

Chris feels Mike twitch in his fist and hurriedly takes him in his mouth. He hears Mike moan, a long exhale of relief, and works him through it, sucking and jerking him off until Mike’s fingers dig protest into the line of his shoulder.

Chris swallows and eases off, licking his lips as he lets Mike’s dick fall from his hand. He takes a moment to inspect himself. There’s cum on his fingers and chin, but somehow, thankfully, his glasses are unscathed. He gingerly takes them off, drags his hand over his mouth then glances at the rumpled bed sheets but thinks better of it.

Mike doesn’t complain when Chris wipes his palm on his thigh. If anything, he seems amused. “Fuck,” he says through a warm hum of laughter, more strength to his voice now. “Fuck, that was…”

Mike doesn’t need to elaborate. His contented sigh and wetly glistening cock are review enough of exactly what that was.

Chris smirks, but it's shaky at the edges. He glances at his hand, then back to Mike. "Yeah, I was there."

Mike’s winning smile returns, lazy with exertion. He looks relaxed, tired, but Chris knows Mike’s never entirely switched off.

Chris’ eyes roam across Mike’s chest and stomach, gaze lingering on the mess they’ve made despite his efforts. It hurries him, focusing his thoughts, and he unbuttons his jeans, tugging them down to his knees, inwardly wishing he’d taken the time to strip sooner.

Chris is already tenting his shorts, hard and obvious as he shifts on the mattress, clambering out of his clothes while Mike peers up at him. He can’t help noticing the way Mike watches him, eyes drawn to the hard curve of his dick. Chris runs his hand over it, sees the way Mike follows the motion. There’s a hunger there, no subtlety to it.

No, Mike’s not switched off. Not yet.

Mike’s smile broadens as he sits up, reaching for the nightstand. He opens the drawer, returning with lube and a condom, and holds them up, sinking back onto his elbows when Chris takes them from him.

Chris thinks to say something, but he’s too worked up, has thought about this way too much to be patient. He lets the moment pass, only finding his voice when Mike pushes up from the bed again.

“Wait,” he says, and Mike looks at him expectantly.

Chris usually does Mike from behind on all fours, hands tight on his hips, or flat on his stomach, pressed against the mattress. It's Mike's preference, not that Chris has any complaints. Mike likes it kinda rough, he's into hair-pulling and the slap of skin on skin, and Chris is all too happy to give it to him. But Chris doesn’t want it _quite_ like that this time.

Chris drops the lube and condom on the bed and runs his hands over Mike’s inner thighs. He bites his lip and squeezes, gentle but possessive, spreading Mike's legs a little wider. “Like this.”

A moment of deliberation passes, barely a second before Mike settles on his back again. He reaches for a spare pillow and lifts his hips, placing it beneath him. “You’re the boss.”

Mike’s nonchalant reply takes Chris off guard, sends another flush of heat through him from head to toe. He _is_ the boss, for now at least. Behind these closed doors, he's in control. It sparks a thought.

Chris presses on Mike’s knees, flattening them against the mattress, then straddles him, making his way farther up the bed. Kneeling astride Mike's shoulders, dick in hand, he meets Mike's eye, angling it down in wordless expectation.

“Yeah?” Mike asks, eyes lighting up.

Chris braces one hand on the headboard and guides himself into Mike’s mouth, lips parting without hesitation. He’s been aching to be touched for what seems like forever, and the wet slide of Mike’s tongue against his cock is just what he needs right now. He closes his eyes, revelling in the sensation, then looks down between them, and a tight groan escapes him.

It's a total power trip having Mike look up at him like this, softly moaning around his cock like he couldn’t be happier, savouring every second. Perhaps Mike is hamming it up, his ardent moans and eye fucking exaggerated for Chris' sake, but right now Chris couldn’t care less. It feels too good to care.

Chris’ hand joins his other on the headboard, forcing Mike to work to keep Chris in his mouth. But as time passes, Chris can’t quite hold back the gentle rock of his hips, nudging between Mike’s lips, helping Mike out. He watches, Mike’s mouth a perfect 'o' of wet lips and tongue as he lifts his head off the pillow. He feels Mike grip his ass, urging him deeper, and Chris almost gives in. He knows Mike could get him off with his smart mouth and big brown eyes, but Chris doesn’t want to finish like this, though he easily could.

Chris pulls away and clambers down the mattress, getting to his feet to stand beside the bed. Without a word, he takes Mike by the hips and turns him until he's lying at an angle, and Mike looks up at him, pleasantly surprised.

Mike takes off his shirt, tossing it aside while Chris is busy with the condom. Entirely naked, he sinks back against the mattress, and Chris can't help wondering how Mike can just lie there, spread and willing, shamelessly comfortable in his own skin, but figures it’s probably easy to be confident when you look like that.

Lube comes next. Chris picks up the bottle, but it slips from his fingers, landing on Mike's stomach then rolling onto the mattress. He curses under his breath and reaches for it, but Mike gets there first, and Chris flushes with something other than want.

Smooth.

They share a look - a sly smile on Mike's part, poorly disguised embarrassment on Chris' - but both expressions quickly fade to lust when Mike holds the bottle up and spreads his legs a little more, gaze returning to Chris' dick.

Chris takes it and preps, Mike watching all the while. He looks at Mike again, eyes raking over him, then squeezes more into his palm.

Mike's tongue peeks from the corner of his mouth, a look passing behind his eyes because they both know what Chris is thinking.

He is going to fuck. Mike. Hard.

The bed frame creaks when Chris kneels on the mattress, his other leg bent, foot pressed to the floor for leverage. Bracing himself on Mike’s knee, he wipes his hand on his side.

Mike presses his palm against the headboard, tucking his other hand into the crook of his knee. He peers up at Chris with quiet anticipation, agonisingly close, and in this moment Chris knows they’re both done waiting.

“Nnh--”

Chris pushes on the backs of Mike’s thighs, feels them tense, Mike yielding to the drawn-out thrust of his hips as he slowly pushes into him, inch by inch.

“Ahh, _shit_ ," Mike groans, and Chris is thinking the very same thing.

It’s worth the wait. It always is.

Fighting his instincts, Chris takes it slow, withdrawing then gradually easing in, halfway deep. He stays there a while, all slow, slight thrusts and gentle slide, almost losing himself to the constricting heat and soft wet sounds that come with each tenuous movement while Mike pants and tenses around him.

“Hah…”

Mike peers up at him, a wobbly smirk touching the edges of his mouth. His face is tight again, but his voice is surprisingly level when he finds it, and he huffs strained laughter, a sound that gets under Chris’ skin. “You wanna fuck me already or--”

Mike knows how to push his buttons, and Chris acts before he thinks, a surge of something dark and selfish overriding his self-restraint. It's a split-second lapse, but that's all it takes.

" _Fuck-_ -"

Mike curses when Chris cants up into him, a hard thrust that wipes the smug defiance from Mike's face. He pulls Mike against him, follows the movement with another hard thrust, then another, need besting him while Mike clutches the pillow beneath his head. Chris watches their bodies meet, captivated by the quick, slick slide. His gaze trails upward over Mike’s stomach to lidded brown eyes, and Chris’ jaw clenches, lips parting with a low moan.

God, Mike looks good like this - the slight heave of his chest, hair messed up just right - and Chris would bet good money Mike knows it. Mike is lean muscle, toned and hard, his parted lips, harsh pants and low, breathy moans honed to perfection. Even the way his thighs quiver with each jostling thrust is perfect. Mmm-- and fuck if Mike isn’t just as hot on the inside, taut and slick and hugging him to the balls. He's going with it, taking everything Chris throws at him. Even after all this time, Chris still can't get over it.

Yeah, Mike looks good, feels good, and he fucking knows it, Chris is sure. But it doesn't stop Chris staring and writing it all to memory, giving him something to think back on later.

Chris steadily fucks him, finds a rhythm he can keep that wrenches tight sounds from the brunette beneath him. Mike isn't talking much anymore, his sentences shortened to four letter words. His vocabulary suffers when Chris is inside him, another thing that does wonders for Chris’ ego.

Mike's mouth falls ajar, and he lets out a moan, a sound that hits Chris hard. He lets go of the pillow and his hand retreats between his legs, working the makings of a hard-on through his fist.

“Fuh-- Hah... harder...”

Chris quickens without thinking then forces himself to slow. He’s been thinking about this too much, working Mike too hard, and he's closer than he wants to be. He could carry on and get what he came for, and Mike wouldn't bat an eye. But, watching Mike work himself through his hand, hazy-eyed and semi-hard, Chris doesn’t want this to end too soon.

 _Fuck,_ but it's difficult staving it off when Mike is looking up at him like that, encouraging him without saying a word, and Chris’ resolve is tested again when Mike finds his voice.

“Mmhfuh… _Harder_.”

 _Oh, hell-fucking-yes_.

Chris' knee joins his other on the mattress, meeting no resistance when he pulls Mike down the bed towards him, hurriedly slipping Mike's legs over his shoulders. Feeling desperate, needy, he folds over him, pushing into him again without hesitation.

Mike's eyes screw shut, and he groans, a sound Chris isn't used to. His breath is loud now, tight and laboured, but it’s nothing compared to the slap of skin and the headboard banging against the wall, Mike’s hand pressed firmly to it. It's enough to make Chris distantly glad that Mike's parents are out. Something tells him that they wouldn't approve of the sounds their son is making right now.

"Hah-- Nnh..."

Chris feels Mike’s arm between them, pressing against his stomach as Mike touches himself, but there's no taking it slow anymore. He wants Mike to keep making these sounds, to keep feeling how deep he can go. He can't stop, not now.

“Ahh--”

Mike's face is lined with tension, mere inches from his own when he says something, garbled, breathy words, but Chris doesn't take it in. He feels Mike tense, hears a choked-up sound followed by a sharp moan, and Mike's jaw slackens like a fucking revelation.

Chris hasn't seen Mike like this before, vivid and up close. He isn't sure if Mike came, doesn't know for sure, but knows he can't hold off much longer. Tense panting fills the close space between them while he rides it out, fucking Mike with impatient insistence. He's close now, so close it makes him desperate, thoughts focused on the feeling of Mike around him, beneath him, so hot and tight and--

“Fuck...” Mike manages, eyes tightly closed. "Fuck, Chris--"

Seconds pass, a few hurried thrusts, and Chris comes hard. It rips a curse from him, but Chris barely hears it, lost in a moment that blanks his mind. His mouth finds Mike's on instinct, hungry, hot and messy, but he's too far gone to care, and he moans when Mike kisses back.

Chris works up into Mike, gradually slowing, the feeling ebbing with each slackening thrust. He presses his head to Mike’s without thinking and feels Mike’s breath on his mouth and chin. Remembering himself too late, Chris pulls away. "I..."

"Hah... _fuck_." Mike's smile returns as though it never left. He laughs as his head falls back against the pillow, a warm sound like they're sharing a joke, and Chris' momentary unease begins to fade.

Chris pulls out and deals with the condom, hands working on automatic while his head slowly clears. He sees Mike grab a gym towel from the corner of his eye, wiping himself off before holding it out, and Chris takes it, runs it over his cock and thighs, then hands it back and sits there, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

With someone else, he might linger, maybe flop back on the bed and lay there for a while. But he doesn't. Instead, Chris starts getting dressed, still catching his breath when he reaches for his clothes, fishing his shorts from the floor. He never overstays his welcome. Besides, he actually has studying to do.

Chris isn't self-conscious while they're fucking. Losing his inhibitions in the heat of the moment is easy. With a clear head, they begin to creep back in. He turns away and puts his shirt on, feels his confidence returning with every added garment until only his socks and shoes are unaccounted for.

“You good?” Mike asks.

Chris glances over his shoulder. Mike doesn't seem in a rush, dressing at a leisurely pace, his shorts and t-shirt back on. Smiling, Chris gives him a 'what do you think' look and goes back to searching for his socks. It’s yet another pointless question, he's better than okay.

“You wanna stay a while?”

Chris turns this time. He blinks, brow lifting then furrowing a touch.

Finally, a real question.

“You don’t have to go,” Mike adds, chuckling when Chris doesn't answer. “I mean, I might shower and find some pants, but.”

Chris' frown remains while he muddles through it. The thought to stay had never occurred to him, an assumption he'd never thought to question. He meets Mike's eye and receives a casual shrug.

Why hadn't it occurred to him?

_Because it's Mike?_

Yeah, there’s that, Mike's place upon an imagined pedestal secured in Chris' mind years ago, and Chris can't help but be puzzled by the offer. But, in a way Chris doesn't quite understand, Chris can't help being pleased by it either.

...It can’t hurt to, right?

Wary, but growing surer by the second, Chris sits down on the bed again, frown replaced with a hint of a smile.

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay.”


	2. Mike

"Eyes on me."

Blue eyes peer up at Mike, bright and obedient, lamplight glinting off clear lenses as Chris firms up his grip on Mike's hip. Holding Mike's gaze, he shifts on his elbows and lowers his head, mouth inching along the length of Mike's dick, slow and smooth.

Mike's hand settles on Chris' nape. Even with the weight of Mike's eyes upon him, Chris doesn't look away.

“You know what I like, huh?” he half-asks, running his thumb over warm skin and fine hair.

They’re just words, just something to say, but there's truth to them. Chris always drags this out, never rushes even when Mike wants him to. The number of times Chris has done this must be in double digits by now, but it never gets old. Chris knows what he's doing.

Chris hums, and his hand joins his mouth, working Mike through his fist while Mike looks on. His eyes flick up now and then, attentive glances accompanied by unconscious sounds Chris probably doesn't realise he's making.

And Mike can't take his eyes off him.

“Shirt."

“Hnn?”

Chris slows, peering up with a question in his eyes. His brow creases, and for a moment Mike wonders if Chris is fucking with him.

“Take it off,” Mike says, spelling it out.

If Chris wasn't messing with him before, he is now, a hint of understanding passing behind his eyes before they close, paying Mike no mind. But Mike isn't annoyed. It's a side of Chris he hadn't expected, a defiant streak he's growing to like, and he laughs disbelief.

“ _Off_ ,” Mike says, trying to sound more relaxed than he feels.

Chris stops this time. Kneeling between Mike's legs, he straightens and takes off his shirt while Mike watches with mute approval. It's good seeing more skin, and times like this make Mike wonder why Chris insists on burying himself under all those layers. Maybe it's self-consciousness, though Chris has nothing to worry about. He's got a good body, broad chest and shoulders enough to hold Mike's attention.

Chris' hand goes to his glasses, and maybe Chris knows Mike too well, for he keeps them on. But Mike doesn't complain. He likes the familiarity, likes knowing Chris can see him clearly, and his mouth twitches at the corners when Chris adjusts them with a knowing look.

Perfect.

Shirt dealt with, Chris settles between Mike's legs and takes him between his lips, dispelling any half-formed musings about shyness as he slowly sinks over Mike before easing back. He takes Mike deeper, tongue cradling his dick as he pulls back to suck along the tip, quickening when Mike sucks in a breath.

“That’s right,” Mike says through a self-indulgent smile. “Show me what you got.”

...When and how did Chris get good at this?

The how is obvious, practice makes perfect, but Chris has never struck Mike as the type to spread himself around. Mike has a good frame of reference - Chris isn’t the first set of eyes Mike’s had looking up at him - and there are some things you don't just 'know how to do'. There’s history there, a big unknown side to Chris that feels a lot like familiar smiles, 'sleepovers' and back row seats at movie screenings. It makes Mike wonder who else has seen Chris like this.

The thoughts are fleeting, replaced by another question when Chris meets his eye.

Does it matter?

No. Not at all.

Mike’s hand returns to Chris’ neck, massaging it with gentle possessiveness. He keeps his breathing steady when Chris makes a sound around him, but his hand betrays him, grip tightening ever so slightly.

Mike’s eyes fall closed and his smile returns, slight and knowing. “You hard?”

Mike knows but can't resist asking. He's been thinking about it the whole time, thoughts never straying far. He likes how eager Chris is, how worked up he's trying not to seem, but Mike knows better. Chris is hard.

Hard and thick and all for him.

"Mmm, _yeah_ you are."

Chris breathes loudly through his nose, answer enough, and Mike's smile grows. He follows the line of Chris' jaw with his thumb, feels it moving beneath his fingertips while Chris carries on. Chris' eyes are closed, his breath kinda shaky, but he doesn't stop or falter. Not once.

"You wanna fuck me?" Mike asks, feigning an innocence he’s anything but.

Mike knows, of _course_ he knows, but he's worked up by the idea. He exhales, sinks back against the pillows, and runs idle fingers through his own hair.

Yeah, Chris wants it, wants _him_.

“Get me off, and you can fuck me,” Mike breathes, walking the tightrope between submissive and benevolent. He feels a surge of want and shifts against the pillow, closing his eyes. "Fuck me _so hard_."

Too much? Probably. But that’s the deal, and it can’t hurt to remind Chris what he’s working for. It’s a promise, not just to Chris but to himself, and Mike means what he says, every word getting him that little bit closer.

Some people think Mike is too fond of his own voice, but they don't know just how much. The words come easily, an extension of their usual back and forths with a dirty edge. It's almost like Mike can't help himself, every rhetorical question and heated word intended to push Chris' buttons and make the blond push right back.

It works.

Mike exhales through pursed lips. He feels hazy, heat settling beneath his skin. He's too caught up in his head, lost to thoughts of all the ways Chris could fuck him, how Chris _will_ fuck him, and his fingers tighten in his hair.

His gaze returns to Chris as he licks his way along his cock, something almost playful about it, a hint of a smile gracing Chris' lips. And then the moment passes, and Chris takes him in deep, edging farther down his dick with each smooth bob.

Mike grins and nods without realising, words escaping him for a moment. “Yeah, fuh-- _fuck_ , just like… that.”

Chris swallows around him, and Mike fails to hold back a shudder, but the blond continues undeterred. Chris’ eyes are closed, a look of quiet concentration furrowing his brow as he sinks lower, and Mike's toes curl, feet clenching against the comforter.

" _That's_ it," Mike murmurs, running his fingers through blonde hair. "That's my boy."

Chris swallows and looks up, meeting Mike’s gaze. His eyes are bright and determined, hungry, and it makes Mike’s gut tighten.

"So good," Mike breathes and licks his lips again. “Mmm, yeah... so fucking _good_.”

Chris closes his eyes, working Mike in his hand while he sucks the head. He looks so good right now, all soft wet lips and heavy lashes. The sight provokes a thought, and Mike reaches beside him, eyes never leaving Chris, fumbling blindly until he feels the edge of his phone.

Perhaps it would be polite to give Chris some say in it, but Mike doesn't ask permission. Instead, he lines up the shot and takes a picture, capturing the moment with a tap of his thumb. Chris won't mind, Mike is sure. Lord knows Chris has enough of him.

Fair's fair.

“Look at me.”

At once, Chris' eyes are on him again.

Mike takes another photo, notes the way Chris looks at him _through_ the camera lens, and his smile turns wolfish. “Yeah… just like that.”

Without another word, Mike gently prises Chris' fingers back. He runs his free hand through Chris' hair and nudges farther into the wet heat of his mouth, grip tightening on his phone.

Chris lets him, holding still while Mike lifts his hips, slowly thrusting between warm lips. But Chris' patience doesn't last, and he soon brushes Mike aside, one step from batting him away.

Mike relents and drops his phone on the bed beside him without complaint. He likes getting what he wants, is used to it, but, in a way he can’t quite explain, the only thing he likes more is _not_ getting it.

Chris’ fingers curl around the length of Mike’s dick. He flashes a faint smile then takes Mike in his mouth again, everything on his terms now. He's back in the driver’s seat, and fuck if they aren’t both into it.

Mike watches Chris carry on, taking his time, listening to the unconscious sounds Chris makes, little hums and stunted moans loud in the quiet. Chris' hand is firm on his waist, Mike's hip pinned to the bed, and for a moment Mike feels something he hasn't for a while.

Vulnerable.

“Fuck…” Mike breathes, voice small and wavering, want coiling in his belly. He lays his arm across his face and pulls up his shirt, material gathering under his arms as he runs his hand over his chest. He wants Chris' hands, wants fingers inside him and palms against his skin. He almost wants Chris to stop and fuck him already, _almost_ , but Mike won't ask for it.

He never asks for it.

Chris pulls back, and his hand quickens a touch, jerking Mike off while he plants open-mouthed kisses across his stomach.

Mike is self-aware enough to know what Chris is doing. It feels like Chris is playing to his vanity, trying to get him off with the sight of slow licks and well-placed kisses against the toned plane of his stomach.

Whatever it is, it’s working.

"Ahh yeah…”

Mike watches Chris from beneath his arm. There’s something so fucking sexy about Chris' expression, eager concentration and heavy want, that look in his eye that says so much without saying a word. Chris knows how to touch him, how to get him closer, and he is, stroking him with steadfast determination.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck--_

A swipe of tongue, a flash of sultry blue eyes, and that’s all Mike can take.

“ _Nnh--_ ”

He feels Chris’ mouth on him again when it hits, and Chris wrings it from him, carrying on until it’s almost too much. He grips Chris' shoulder, a reflex made without thinking, but Chris knows when to quit.

Mike opens his eyes as Chris eases off, met with the sight of flushed cheeks and wet lips. He sags against the bed, watches Chris scrutinise his hand before wiping it on his thigh, and lets out a breath of laughter, lost in a sigh of relief. “Fuck. Fuck, that was…”

Mike doesn't finish the thought. It's pretty clear what that was.

Chris smirks, but there’s no edge to it. He glances at his hand then meets Mike's eye. “Yeah, I was there.”

Mike's smile returns, lopsided and relaxed, and he glances down at himself. He's messy despite Chris' efforts but makes no attempt to clean himself up. It's not a matter of laziness, though that's certainly a factor. Chris likes him messy. It's one of those things you pick up on over time.

Chris is already unbuttoning his jeans before Mike has a chance to get his head straight, and Mike can’t help smiling at how eager Chris is. He watches Chris tug them down, eyes roaming Chris' body as he frees himself from his shorts, clambering out of his clothes until he's naked before him.

Chris is… big. That’s the only word Mike can think of. Even before he learned first-hand about Chris’ skilled mouth, he'd heard the rumours about his size, bullshit nothing talk spread by who can even remember, but it's true. Chris is a good handful, a good mouthful, and, not for the first time, Mike reminds himself to put more stock in rumours from now on.

Chris meets his eye, prompts Mike with a look that cuts short his train of thought.

Mike reaches for the nightstand. They have an understanding, this is his end of the deal. Though his own urgency is gone, sated, Mike still wants it.

He glances at the alarm clock, blinking as he quickly does the math. It's been a while since Chris came over, probably a new record if someone's keeping count, and Mike huffs, amused. He rummages through the nightstand until he finds what he's looking for then closes the drawer. On his back once more, he holds out the lube and a condom.

Chris takes them from him. He looks like he's about to speak. When he doesn't, Mike edges back, about to turn over.

"Wait."

Chris lets the lube and condom fall to the bed then runs his hands along Mike’s thighs. He chews his lip, something bashful about the gesture, but there’s no mistaking the look in his eye. “Like this,” he says, spreading Mike's legs a little more.

_Oh?_

The request is enough to raise Mike’s eyebrows, a mild surprise. It’s not the way this usually goes, but if Chris wants it then...

Mike barely hesitates. He fetches a pillow, props it up then settles on it, throwing Chris an easy smile. “You're the boss.”

Chris' grip tightens on Mike's thighs, just a touch. He seems to consider something then releases him, pressing against Mike's knees.

Mike watches, curiosity growing when Chris straddles him, moving farther up the bed. For a moment it seems like Chris has other ideas, an unexpected change of plan, but Chris doesn't stop until he's kneeling over him, the head of his dick almost brushing Mike's lips.

Mike’s eyes widen with belated realisation. Chris is full of surprises today.

“Yeah?” he asks.

Mike doesn't wait for an answer, and Chris doesn't give him one, already guiding himself into Mike's mouth. He looks up as Chris slides against his tongue and hums around him, the sound met with a tight groan.

Mike gives good face, has the practised tension in his brow down to an art, eyes closing now and then. He likes being watched like this, Chris peering down at him through lidded eyes, the sight adding to the feeling of him in his mouth, against his tongue.

Chris is a mouthful, but Mike takes what he's given. He lifts his head, does what he can from that angle, and soon Chris is moving with him, gently sliding between his lips. His hands go to Chris' ass, and he urges Chris deeper, eyes alight with satisfaction when Chris' brow knits, breath catching, just the reaction Mike's looking for.

Chris pulls back, moving down the mattress until he's standing beside the bed. He reaches for Mike's hips, turning him in one rushed movement, and rearranges Mike to his liking. Another pleasant surprise.

Mike isn’t on any teams, his academic and social life leaving little time for such pursuits, but he keeps himself in shape, and it shows. He removes his shirt and reclines, tilting his head and arranging himself just so, almost posing. It pays off, stopping Chris in his tracks, a momentary pause as he deals with the condom, but Mike catches it. Yeah, he loves the way Chris is looking at him right now, thoughts loud and clear in his eyes, barely concealed, and Mike smiles inwardly.

Chris picks up the lube but fumbles, and it falls from his hand, hitting Mike's stomach before rolling onto the bed. He curses, expression tinged with embarrassment.

Mike almost laughs before he bites it back. He could tease Chris, give him some shit, but thinks better of it. After all, it's probably best not to poke fun at the guy who's about to fuck his ever-loving brains out.

Instead, Mike holds up the bottle, gaze trailing from flushed cheeks to the hard length of Chris' dick. He spreads himself a little more and watches Chris' embarrassment fade, blue eyes distracted by splayed legs and tight muscles.

Good.

Chris preps while Mike watches. He looks at Mike again, following the lines of Mike’s body as he runs himself through his fist, then stops, squeezing more into his palm.

Mike's pulse quickens, a thrill of anticipation running through him when a very important realisation dawns on him.

Chris is going to fuck. Him. Hard.

Mike reaches for the headboard when Chris rests his knee on the bed, one foot pressed to the floor. Chris lines himself up between Mike's legs, grips Mike’s thighs, and they share a heavy look, an unspoken thought passing between them.

Mike wants it. They both do.

“Nnh-- Ahh, _shit_."

Mike groans, forcing himself to relax when Chris slowly eases into him, opening him up, bit by bit. His eyes almost close, growing heavier with every passing second, breath catching in his chest as he drags it in through gritted teeth.

Yeah, Chris is big - a fact the blond doesn’t brag about, though he easily could - and Mike feels the strain despite Chris’ thorough preparations. To his credit, Chris is taking his time, not too deep, moving slow, but the wait is almost agonising, every drawn-out movement prolonged to an extreme.

Mike clenches his jaw and breathes through it, a flicker of frustration marring his brow. It's not that he wants to get this over with, far from it, but this timid middle ground isn't what he wants, or what Chris wants either, deep down. Chris is too gentle sometimes, too cautious. But Mike knows how this works.

Chris needs permission.

“Hah…”

Chris peers down at him with mild confusion, questioning laced with want.

He could phrase it a million different ways. He could ask for it, though he never will. But Mike can't stop himself antagonising Chris, just a bit. He lets out another breath of laughter, mouth touched by the hint of a smile. "You wanna fuck me already or--"

Chris’ expression darkens as he takes the bait, giving in to petty provocation. It’s so easy to work Chris up, and he caves right on cue, meeting the challenge in Mike’s eye. He fucks him, a hard, unapologetic thrust that grits Mike's teeth and forces his eyes closed, then drags Mike across the mattress toward him, pulling him firmly against his hips.

“ _Fuck-_ -”

Mike clutches the pillow, gasping when Chris does it again, just as deep. And once Chris starts he doesn't stop, hitting his stride, hips moving with steady persistence while Mike pants beneath him.

Jesus, Chris looks good looming over him right now, gaze heavy but assured. He seems confident, a look of determination set on his face while he fucks, each thrust firm and steady. Mike doesn't usually see Chris like this, his face pressed to a pillow or head hung low while Chris takes him from behind. There's something hot about Chris' expression, his stance, his gaze, something so unexpectedly forceful that Mike can’t help feeling like he's been missing out.

Mike can’t talk much anymore, his former eloquence deserting him. But Chris is making enough noise for them both, and Mike listens, letting the sounds wash over him.

And _fuck_ , Chris isn't holding back anymore, but Mike wouldn't have it any other way. Most people are too afraid to push Mike too far, everyday encounters filled with fawning looks and obsequious smiles. He can't pretend he doesn't like it, but sometimes, in a way Mike won't admit aloud, he wants to be taken down a peg.

Time and again, Chris delivers. It's a heady combination, being challenged and wanted at the same time. Because that’s the crux of it, what Mike's getting from this, isn’t it? Chris _wants him_ , and--

Oh…

...Oh, _shi--_

Mike braces himself on the headboard, mouth falling open with a moan. He wasn't expecting it, content enough with fullness and the weight of Chris' gaze, but he's feeling more than that now.

He moans again, a sound he doesn't mean to make. His grip loosens on the pillow bunched between his fingers, and he lowers his hand, runs it over his cock, touching himself when he feels it stir against his palm, already semi-hard.

“Fuh-- Hah... harder,” he manages, barely.

Chris groans above him, speeds up a little, and Mike's hand quickens too. It adds to the feeling of Chris inside him, gives every thrust a heightened edge as Chris hits that sweet spot again and again, and Mike clings to the sensation.

“Mmhfuh _..._ _Harder_ ,” Mike pants, asking this time.

Chris doesn’t disappoint, pulling Mike against him with a jarring clash of hips. He wastes no time slinging Mike’s legs over his shoulders, folding over him, giving Mike little respite before he's fucking him in earnest.

Mike's eyes screw shut. He tries to speak, a curse lost in a groan. He can’t move his arm now even if he wanted to, hand wedged in the scant space between them. So he makes the most of it, fucking his hand while Chris bears down on him.

Yes, Chris is big, but Mike can take it, and Chris works him hard. Everything suddenly seems so loud, the headboard clattering against the wall, the smack of Chris' body against his own. He’s pretty sure the neighbours can hear, though they've probably heard worse, and fuck it if they can, Mike doesn't care. Because this feels good. Really, really--

"Hah-- Nnh..."

 _Oh fuck fuck fuck_ , he's really feeling it now, deep in the pit of his stomach, ache flaring in his pelvis, growing stronger and more urgent every time Chris’ body meets his. And Chris is relentless, panting and moaning above him, pounding into him again and again. Mike wasn’t working for it before, but Chris is getting him there. He can feel it catching up with him, building, growing, faster and stronger and--

“Ahh--” Mike’s voice is tight, filled with urgency. “Fuck, right-- _hahh_ , right th--”

The words die when it hits him, struck dumb by a feeling he's too blindsided to fathom. He can’t think beyond the wave of sensation as it breaks, a feat he wasn't sure he was capable of, and it makes him feel weak in the best kind of way. His mouth opens with a flustered moan, almost a word, a sound he can't hold back. He doesn't care.

Mike's still riding the aftershock while Chris pants above him. He's on the homestretch, Mike can hear it in his breath, feel the determination in each frenetic thrust.

“Fuck...” Mike breathes, eyes closed. "Fuck, Chris--"

The first time was an accident, a word slipping out in the heat of the moment, a lapse that didn't mean a thing. But Chris' reaction didn't go unnoticed, his response logged and recognised. It's slipped out more often since then, a surefire way to tip Chris over the edge, the word setting him off like a trigger. Whatever the reason, Chris comes when Mike says his name.

He always does.

Mike doesn't expect the eager press of lips, hard and biting. He lifts his head from the pillow to meet them, kissing back as Chris moans into his mouth, tongue hot and slick against his own. It's not the first time they've kissed, not by a long shot, but it's rare. There's no need for it anymore with what they do. But that doesn't mean Mike doesn't want to. It’s not the first time, and Mike doesn’t see it being the last.

Chris finishes, thrusting until he’s spent. Slowing, he presses his forehead to Mike's, warm skin a heavy weight until he pulls back with a flustered look.

"I..." Chris murmurs between shallow breaths. He doesn't seem to know where to go with the thought.

Mike laughs, but not at Chris' expense. He's still kinda shell-shocked, his thoughts vague and poorly formed, but he's with it enough to recognise the uncertainty in Chris' eyes.

"Hah... _fuck_ ," he says and laughs again, the sound little more than a breath. He smiles, and it seems enough to put Chris a little more at ease.

Good. 

Mike sucks in a breath when Chris pulls out then rolls onto his side, removing the flattened pillow while Chris deals with the condom. The room feels too warm, and his legs feel weak, the scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air. He thinks to open the window but dismisses the idea. It seems like a lot of effort right now. 

Mike wearily wipes himself off with a gym towel then gives it to Chris, who does the same then hands it back. Smirking, Mike dumps it on the floor. 

Guess he's doing laundry later. 

Man, he’s tired now, and Mike's tempted to hit the shower then laze a while. Instead, he finds his shirt and shorts and slowly pulls them on. Because that's what they do afterwards. That's the way it goes.

Chris is almost fully dressed, fastening his jeans as he scans the floor for his socks. He always seems like he's in a rush, perhaps wanting to avoid an awkward conversation with Mike's parents if they came back early, and Mike can't blame him. Mike can't imagine it would be fun talking to his parents right now either.

No, Chris never waits around, and that's fine, they both know what this is.  Cool and easy, hot and heavy, but not serious. A casual thing. Still, Chris seems sort of quiet. Quieter than usual.

It's one of those things you pick up on over time.

“You good?” Mike asks.

Chris glances over his shoulder and shrugs. He smiles, and Mike matches it, answering the question without a word, then continues his search.

Mike watches him for a moment, thinks to offer a hand. But really, he's in no rush to see Chris leave. Sure, he's tired, achy too, but it's not like Mike has anywhere else to be. He finds himself considering a thought that's crossed his mind more often in recent weeks and almost dismisses it the way he has before, but this time it sticks.

He... could ask?

Mike leans back against the headboard and adjusts his shirt. He takes a breath.

"You wanna stay a while?"

Chris turns and looks at him quizzically, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. He doesn't speak, and for once, Mike isn't sure what he might say.

Finally, a question he doesn’t know the answer to.

“You don’t have to go,” Mike adds as though it's obvious, filling the quiet. “I mean, I might shower and find some pants, but.”

Mike watches Chris muddle through it, and Mike adds a shrug to the question, slight and non-committal. Because it's no big deal, not at all. Not if they don't want it to be.

A moment passes, and Chris sits down on the edge of the bed. His expression brightens a touch, frown replaced by a hint of a smile.

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@messofcurls-creative](https://messofcurls-creative.tumblr.com)


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